Song in Shadow
by EireCat
Summary: How is it that every bard eventually finds himself stuck in the middle of one of his own stories? The tale of a song and of a sword and how, when the two clash together, neither is the same. Prologue to a work in progress.


_Author's Note: Something ever so slightly different from my usual fare here. ( Yeah, yeah. I know it's another bard story. So sue me.) This is the prologue to a (not so) short story that's currently a work in progress that I may eventually post here. Not sure yet. But after mulling it over a bit, I've decided that I like this little bit of it enough to post it in its vignette form. Hooray! ahem This is pretty much the backstory of the two central characters of said short story, the "how they met" bit of tiresome exposition. It is pure, unudulterated and unashamed fluff, so consider yourselves fairly warned. Warned fairly? In a fair manner warned? Eh. You get my point. The second warning of the fair nature is that this story revolves around an unconventional sort o' romance. No lemon here. Just a lot of sugar, but if the concept of maleXmale bothers you, click the handy little back button on your screen. Peace._

_EC_

Benedicci means blessed, or something near to it, in a lilting tongue that Benny himself had never bothered to learn. Something from his mother's side, he had always assumed. From what he remembered, Isolde had been a gregarious woman with sparkling green eyes that always lit up at the thought of faraway places and foreign peoples. Doubtlessly that was why she had been so easily seduced by his father. Of course, "father" is a generous term to apply to someone who had cut and run not more than five minutes after he had rolled off of Isolde, but that was not the point. The point was that Benedicci means blessed, and nine times out of ten, he found himself languidly agreeing with that label.

Now, however, was not one of those times.

The lower passages of the keep were dark and filled with an unnatural, oppressive heat. Some of the less used hallways were small enough that even his thin shoulders occasionally brushed against the foul smelling slime that clung to the black walls. Benny sighed quietly as they crept along, the loudest noise that he allowed himself beyond the hammering of his heart. If he had a choice, he would be…well…anywhere but where he currently was: in the nest of some half crazed cult, seeking gods knew what untimely end in the stuffy darkness. But he didn't have a choice. One thing that Benny was blessed with that he would much rather have done without was a streak of reluctant nobility that had lead him on more than one occasion into dangers that he would otherwise have tipped his hat to and went merrily (and quickly) in the opposite direction.

But the decent portion of him had struck again and here he was. Well…the decent portion of him and the sadly deficient state of his coinpurse…a bard had to eat, after all. There were only three of them. Himself, Raegan; the human paladin who lead them, and Styx; an undersized Halfling cleric who was only matched in his fervent faith by his sticky fingers. The resistance to the underground slave trade in the south was growing, but they were still few, which was probably why Styx and Raegan had so readily accepted Benny's offer of assistance when he had heard them speaking in a tavern some weeks ago. It was just as well, though. This was a mission that required more stealth than brute strength. If all went well, they would be in and out before any of the dark clerics that infested the place knew they had been there at all.

If all went well… Benny shook his head faintly in the darkness. That was a line of thought best left elsewhere. There was a soft click from up ahead and a quiet sound of triumph from Styx. The Halfling tucked away his lock picking tools and pushed open the door slowly, sending a creak through the passageway that set Benny's teeth on edge. There was no sound that they had been heard, however, and Benny peered forward through the small portal, glancing around and blinking in the dim torchlight that seemed to set the room ablaze compared to the pitch blackness of the hallway.

He felt Raegan stiffen beside him and followed the direction of the young paladin's gaze to where it rested on a pair of gaurds standing at the other end of the room, their backs turned. Benny set a hand gently on Raegan's shoulder as he felt him reach for his sword, shaking his head slightly and putting a finger to his lips. He took a silent step forward, crouching down and moving his hands in complex patterns as a whisper of song left his lips. The guards stiffened then slowly slid to the floor with the soft rustle of studded leather armor against stone.

Benny chuckled, giving Raegan a mildly smug look as he stepped out into the room. The paladin wrinkled his nose as he followed, speaking in a stage whisper.

"What the hell did you do to them?"

Benny lifted a shoulder as he followed Styx to the row of cages along the wall, each of which bore a huddled dark form.

"Relax. They're only asleep."

"That's what I'm afraid of," hissed Styx from where he was crouched examining one of the cage's locks. "They're less likely to spread any alarm if they're too dead to do it. Ah, hell's teeth…"

Benny silenced the grumbling reply from Raegan with a dark look and a nod toward the sleeping men. "What is it?"

Styx ran a single grubby finger along the outline of the lock. "These are good. Too good. Dunno if I'll be able to open them. Not in the time we have…"

"You won't."

All three of them jumped, twitchy hands reaching for their weapons before they realized the voice came from inside the cage. The hunched figure inside lifted its head, revealing the angular features and elegantly swept back ears of an elf. He looked like he hadn't seen a bath in weeks, but even through the dirt, Benny could see that he was handsome. His features were strong, and his eyes clear and unafraid as he looked out at them. Styx looked almost affronted.

"How d'you know then? I might be able to…"

The figure shook his head as he stood and moved to the bars. He was thin and worn, but the dim torchlight still highlighted the impressive lines of muscle over his chest and arms. A fighter then of some sort, perhaps. Or perhaps only a slave used to the work of the mines.

"You'll not find locks on these doors that even a thief of the highest skill could tease open, Master Halfling. We're being kept for the honor of sacrifice at the High Festival tomorrow to whatever four armed, eight eyed, maniac deity these heathens serve. They have not been all too talkative to us on the matter."

He smiled. It was a wry smile without humor, but Benny found himself liking it. At least until he caught himself and put a firm brake on that set of thinking. This was hardly the time. The elf reached forward, absently curling his fingers around the bars.

"They only take prime specimens for this ritual. Young. Strong. This makes us dangerous, so we are kept under heavy security. I'm afraid your lock picks…"

"…are unnecessary," Styx finished for him. There was a click and he swung the elf's door open with a crooked grin, holding up the keys that had been on the belt of the snoozing guard and jingling them around a bit. The elf made a bit of a face but stepped out of the cage.

"Normally, I stand against thieves, but under the circumstances…"

Styx sniffed. "Mate, I am offended. I ain't no thief, I'm a man o' god." Holding his head haughtily high, he moved on to the next cage, jingling a bit at the weight of the gold he had liberated along with the keys.

It was as they were leading the captives along the secret passageways toward freedom that the elf fell into step beside Benny. He moved like a large cat that had been long caged, and Benny was all too conscious of it as the man walked beside him. He cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, the elf spoke up softly.

"There is trouble ahead. Be ready."

Benny blinked, but before he had time to pass the warning along to Raegan, or indeed, even wonder how the elf had known of the impending danger, they were attacked. A regiment of black clad guards appeared seemingly out of the shadows themselves and slammed into them, swinging pitted shortswords that dripped with an evil-smelling black ichor.

Benny felt himself pushed to the ground as a blade went whistling through the space his head had been in a split second before. The elf stood over him, the dark grey of his eyes blazing as he grappled with the guard. A twist of those powerful arms and the guard slumped to the ground with a gurgling hiss, his head lying at an odd angle. Benny had little enough time to breathe a thank you, though. They were heavily outnumbered and it was all he could do to whisper spells and songs in the chaos of the brawl that would keep him from losing his head or worse yet, being tossed himself into the waiting cages that were still not all that far behind them.

With the help of those freed slaves who were able to fight, though, they eventually broke away from the last of the guards and were soon through the tunnels and running as fast as they could through the starlit night above.

It was quite some time before they allowed themselves to stop and breathe. Tired but triumphant eyes lifted above the treeline to watch the outline of the black tower against the stars which was now no more than a dim shadow in the distance. Raegan let them gather themselves for a few minutes but then lead them onward again, three adventurers and the fifteen former captives making their way as quietly as possible through the dark and tangled wilderness.

This time, it was Benny who found himself falling into step beside the elf.

"You know your way around a fight. We're lucky for that."

The elf smiled wryly, though it was not with ill humor. The crisp night air and the bright stars seemed to smell of freedom to him, and it filled him with a burning energy that Benny found himself leaning almost instinctively toward.

"I do. But it did not do me all that much good when I was captured, did it? I'm the lucky one. Without the resistance, I would still be facing my death with tomorrow's moon. I owe you my thanks."

Benny lifted a thin shoulder as he found his eyes drawn to the elf again. To the way he moved. The way the moonlight shaped his face into planes of light and shadow.

"Mm? Ah. I'm not…with the resistance actually. It's Raegan up there you should thank. I'm merely a traveling musician. They had need of some aid and I was glad to give it, but I have to be on the road again soon if I expect to eat."

The elf nodded and Benny cleared his throat, watching him from the corner of his eye. Before he could stop himself, he heard the words pouring from his bastard traitor of a mouth.

"I don't know what life you have to go back to, but…a curious thought has crossed my mind. If you have nowhere else to go, I could use your services. You seem to handle yourself well in a fight. Quite well. I have need of a bodyguard. Perhaps you could stay with me a while."

The elf seemed to weigh this carefully and Benny waited, silently cursing himself. In all truth he had no need of any bodyguard. He could handle himself quite well, all things considered, and another body was all too often no more than a hassle. But in his heart of hearts he knew why he had asked. As much as he was loath to admit it; he was lonely. It had been a long road, and seeking the company he would have preferred was dangerous at the very least and deadly at the absolute worst. A companion would be a nice change. And it didn't hurt in the very slightest that this companion would be easy on the eyes, even if Benny knew quite well that the likelihood of sharing anything _beyond_ companionship was…unlikely at best. And a dream best left locked away behind the merry dark green of his eyes. He frowned to himself softly, but his melancholy musings were soon cut short as the elf's face lit into a brief but pleasant smile. It _was_ a nice smile. Damn…

"I need a way to feed and clothe myself, and no family or duty calls me save the one I have imposed upon myself. And that can be accomplished just as easily while working for you. Of course…I'd prefer to know the name of my employer."

Benny chuckled musically, ignoring the sudden pounding of his heart. He offered his hand. "Benedicci. Benny if you can't wrap your tongue around that."

The elf laughed quietly. "My name is Cain, Benedicci. I can wrap my tongue around most things. I have a talent at it."

_I bet you do,_ Benni thought as he put on a smile. _God damn it…_

The next few months passed in something of a blur for Benny. Life was the same as it had always been. The roads were long and often hard. The rains fell and drenched him while he was still a mile or more from a decent town. A poorly chosen song or flippant remark to the town drunkard was met with thrown bottles and fists.

Yet there was one small change…and that changed everything. Cain was there. Cain walked beside him on the roads, mostly in stolid silence but occasionally coaxed into parting with a story of his life as a paladin. Cain ate with him. Drank with him. Laughed with him. Cain was there to catch the fists aimed at his face. He filled Benny's days with his quiet strength until the bard found himself unable to concentrate on anything else. It was…disconcerting at best. But more often than not, he found himself smiling.

Then the summer bled away into a grey and dreary autumn. The roads were cold and slick with mud, and the harvest had been poor enough in the area that they were currently trudging through that the folk guarded their coin with fists tighter than iron bands. Benny watched the weight of his coinpurse with growing dismay. Days at a time he would go without a proper meal, so he might drop an extra silver or two into the batch meant to pay Cain his monthly wages. Still, as time began to grow short, the meager coins they were tossed in the dreary towns were not adding together quickly enough, and Benny reluctantly turned his eyes northward.

The Twin Cities would hold the potential for coin enough, certainly. But Benny had earned himself something of a…let us say a reputation there on his last visit, and he had no wish to run afoul again of those who had less than forgiving ideas about his personal tastes. But as he watched Cain's broad shouldered form, his outline hazy in the mist of morning as the elf tore down their tents, he found himself willing to risk…well now…damn near anything. So North they went, through the white gates that marked the town and into the bustling, colorful crowds.

The dwarven taverns were rough, but the coin was good. Benny smiled to himself as he strolled down the cobblestone streets one night, his lonely footsteps echoing off the alley walls. Cain had wanted to come with him, but Benny had repeatedly assured him of the safety of this particular tavern and sent the elf to gather supplies and news from the city's large temple. He would have coin enough to keep Cain around for another month at the least. And then…well, and then they would see. Time enough to think of that later. He was so busy listening to the merry jingle of coins in his pocket that the first rock took him entirely by surprise.

It smashed into his right shoulder with a harsh crunch, sending him spinning. He grit his teeth and fumbled at the catch of his spell component pouch, cursing softly in elven. He had no time to straighten though, as a thick wooden club was brought down across his lower back with a sickening crack and he fell too his knees.

"Cain…"

He felt a hand tighten in his hair and his head was yanked back savagely. A shadowed face that smelled of sour whiskey hovered over him and hissed softly in his ear.

"I thought we got it clear first time, boyo. You ain't wanted here. And if that's gonna have to be a hard learned lesson…so be it."

The hand in his hair was released harshly and they were on him again. He managed a final cry before his world exploded into flashes of darkness, pain and grating laughter.

He lay there for a long while after the last of them had departed. His breath came raggedly and filled his mouth with a coppery taste at every exhalation. Every inch of him felt twisted and broken and the cobbles beneath him were slick and warm with his own blood. He took a deep, rattling breath and started to crawl forward, inch by inch along the fetid water of the gutter.

Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps filled his ears and he shrank back, knowing that he would not survive it should his attackers have decided that they weren't quite finished with him yet. The figure that bent over him, though, was not shouting vulgarities in common, but rather murmuring softly in elven, and the hands that brushed the sweat and blood soaked hair from his face were cool and gentle against his burning skin.

"Benedicci… Benny…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Benny could not get his eyes to focus properly, though, and his rescuer's face remained in shadow as he slowly lost consciousness.

When he woke, he was tucked carefully into the bed of his room at the inn, the worst of his wounds healed and those that remained neatly bandaged. He still ached fiercely though, and his vision was blurry as it came to rest on the man at his bedside. Cain exhaled softly, laying a gentle hand on Benny's arm.

"Benedicci, I… There is no excuse for how I have failed you. Please…know that this will never happen again, as there is not a moment I will step from your side long enough for some black hearted bastard to get a fist in."

Benny closed his eyes and swallowed. He started speaking quickly, his eyes turned away from Cain, his words slurred slightly with the effects of the healing.

"About that… Bad news, Cain lad. I'm afraid I'll have to discharge you from my…my service. Please understand, it's not because of…all this. They took….took everything. I can't pay you. I'm terribly… I'm sorry…"

He let his head fall back, exhausted and fighting a growing sense of loss. At the feeling of gentle fingertips on his hand, though, he slowly opened his eyes. Cain had taken his hand. He opened Benny's fingers slowly and pressed a gold coin into his palm, his voice hardly above a whisper.

"I have need of a bard. Perhaps you could stay with me for a while."

Benny blinked and studied the coin in his hand for a moment before slowly looking up to Cain's eyes. The paladin's gaze was warm and gentle and he reached down with shy, tentative fingertips to caress Benny's cheek. The bard pushed himself up slowly, his heart once again pounding in that loud and familiar way in his chest. He leaned into the touch, all too aware of the sweet, musky, horsey smell of the man sitting so close to him; the way the soft light in the room caught in his eyes. A shaky breath escaped him.

"Cain, I…"

A gentle fingertip was laid across his lips.

"Hush, Master Bard. You are a man of words, but let me show you what peace there can be in silence…"

Then his lips were brushing Benny's and his hands were in his hair, and Benny forgot the aches and bandages and lost himself within the bright fire that threatened to consume him utterly.

They lay together afterwards, Benny's head resting gently on Cain's bare shoulder, his arm flung across the other man's chest. His eyelids fought a losing battle to stay open as he rested in the warm sanctuary of the paladin's arms. Before sleep took him, he lifted his voice softly in the darkness of the room.

"Cain?"

"Mm?"

"I have need of…you. Stay with me?"

The gentle arms around him tightened protectively, the only answer that Benny would need for a long while.


End file.
